


Jealousy Or Something Else

by GrilledBeer



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, beaten sanji, mentions of gay sex, seems like rape but not quite, zoro getting a hot at the wrong time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 02:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrilledBeer/pseuds/GrilledBeer
Summary: Watching an opponent brutalise Sanji evoked anger, fear and pain in Zoro ...and something else which make him very, very hot. Can he call it jealousy when he is secretly enjoying this?





	Jealousy Or Something Else

 

It's not a love story, that much Zoro is sure of. It's not casual either. They are not fuck buddies. They are each other’s frustration outlet, they are there to make the other’s regret and fear bearable, they celebrate the other’s victory together, they are — a complement of each other.

Zoro ravishes in the fact that he can make the cook moan in this particular way — an abandoning, vulnerable kind of moan. It reminds him time and again that the cook is not entirely invincible, though he is, most of the time. Zoro is probably the only person to ever have touched this place deep _inside_ him. Sometimes he forgets that the cook is his own person and not an extension of himself. It has always been a given, that the cook and him are inseparable. They have never seen a point of making it obvious, however.

That is why Zoro doesn’t recognise jealousy even when it is shoved in his face.

Zoro has seen opponents hurt Luffy before his eyes numerous times in the past. As the attack comes down, he has never been able to stop himself from yelling at the top of his voice for whichever bastard it is to stop. He almost pleads. A lot of times he almost gets down to his knees and begs for that pain instead before he remembers that Luffy doesn’t want it, that it’s Luffy’s fight. He is angry. He is guilty. He wants to be there to take the blow for his captain.

But this is different.

Their current opponent is a muscular man, almost two metre tall. The bastard uses a horrid, rusty knife as a weapon. His whole being screams crudeness and force: the kind of brute that barges forward, only knowing how to throw a fit. The man is dense and that makes him dangerous, Zoro can tell. The man is the first mate to Luffy’s current quarrel. They are both caught in the thick of their own fight right now. He is there with a partner — an average-looking man that appears to be entirely harmless, except for the gun at his belt.

“This one’s mine, cook. Go take care of that unimportant underling.” Zoro has quipped as he launches himself at the impending man, meaning to take him down quickly.

“What makes you think you can order me around?” The cook grumbles but  Zoro can tell that he turns towards the man with the gun anyway. He smirks.

But his opponent is better than Zoro has thought. After half a second of being distracted, a stupid but unforgivable mistake on his own part, the big man has his knife place against Zoro’s left shoulder, at the place where his arm connects with his torso. Zoro can feel the bite of the blade and is sure that should the man choose to apply pressure, his arm will come off of his body in a blink of an eye.

“Gotcha, young man.”

The cook seems to be doing quite well with his guy. But at the voice of the burly man, he stops in his track and turns around. His eyes widen while he ducks away from a blow coming from the underling.

“Hey you.” Zoro’s opponent calls out to the cook. “If you don’t want your friend’s arm to fly off, stop fighting.”

That does it. The cook stills immediately, a look of horror in his face. Zoro remembers the cook’s story and silently curses himself.

Right. Amputation. No good.

“Zoro…!” The cook shouts but does not dare attempt anything. He just stands there, looking horrified out of his mind. Anger blossoms in Zoro. How dare this worthless piece of shit use him against the cook.

“You coward. Fight me instead. I’m sure I can beat the shit out both of you singlehandedly!” Shouted the predictable idiot.

“Who said you could interfere? I can handle this piece of trash.” Zoro tries to reply cooly, but the man has turned his attention onto the cook. 

“Oh, I like the feisty one. Sounds like a deal!” The bastard just grins mirthfully. His simple expression suddenly becomes frightening. It gives Zoro the chill in the spine. The underling has by now drawn his gun and is pointing it at the cook’s head.

Quickly than one would have guessed from his bulky form, the bastard brings the handle of his knife down aiming for Zoro’s leg. Zoro sees it coming of course and brings his three swords up to parry the blow. To his horror, it is heavier than he has expected and it smashes the bones in his leg while sending his swords flying in different directions.  Involuntarily, he lets out a deep grunt, and the swords are kicked out of his reach. To think that a blow from the handle of a knife can cause this much damage...!

The man advances towards to cook, who resumes his fighting stance again once he’s convinced that Zoro is out of harm’s way. Which irritates Zoro immensely.

“Stupid idiot!”

A few metres away, the cook and the beast start grappling.

“You bastard!!!”

The idiot’s kick pushed the brute back a few feet, but the latter grabs him by the ankle and slams him to the ground, using his leg as a grip. Hard. Zoro can tell that the idiot has hit his head because he is blinking dazedly up at his opponent. The ground is painted with a splash of red. The cook is currently on his stomach, leaving the expanse of his back free to his enemy.

The pain in Zoro's leg almost doesn’t register in his brain as he is transfixed by the scene that rolls out in front of him. His swords are scattered somewhere behind him, but his broken leg prevents him from reaching them. Zoro knows he should be more worried about Luffy and others too, but he just can’t bring himself to. 

“Oi idiot, get your ass up!”

Zoro shouts from where he is on the ground. Before the cook can react, however, the brute is on top of him and immobilises him by digging a knee into his back. The cook groans. Instantly, the bastard has the cook’s thin wrists in each hand, never letting go of the knife. That seems to call the cook back to present.

“S… Stop!”

The cook starts to stutter. Zoro winces. That’s not a good sign. 

“Hahaha. Let me tell you what I like to do best before I end my opponent? To see them becoming undone — thoroughly!” There is no malice in the bastard’s smile. He wears a simple expression of someone announcing a trivial news. Which makes it even more sadistic.

With the position the cook is in, it is impossible to gain leverage and deal out a good kick to the head. He writhes under his captor and tries to get away, to no avail.

Something in Zoro clicks.

The brute’s smile is light and blank. If he’s a normal-sized man, that smile might have been taken as indulging. But with his mass of muscles, it evokes a cold fear in Zoro …and something else.

“If you dare touch my hands, I swear I will break you to pieces.”

The cook tries to turn around and glares at his attacker dangerously, but Zoro can tell that he’s shaking.

The man still has a smile on his face, but presently, with one hand, he is locking the cook’s wrists in a vice grip and forces them up above his head. He must have sensed that it is an empty threat.

“I don’t think so? I think that’ll be me you.”

“LET GO!!!”

The cook shouts, desperately trying to free himself. The situation is taking turn for the worst, and his wrists is in a tighter grip. They must have gone numb, by the way he cannot move anything below his elbows. Zoro knows that he won’t be able to get free: he never can, because there’s no power in those arms. Zoro knows from experience.

With the hand that doesn’t hold the knife, the man rains his fist down all over the cook’s torso — his shoulders, his ribcage, his neck, the small of his back.  As if to abide by the cook’s wish in a twisted way, the piece of trash just works the cook over, leaving only his hands untouched. Zoro grounds his teeth as the cook is left a quivering, heaving mess — by the wrong reasons — on the ground, biting hard on to his lips so as not to let out whimpers of pain. Knowing the cook, Zoro is sure it must have hurt his pride as much as it does his body.

“See? I know how to be nice, unlike you.”

It is then, as Zoro can do nothing but stare, that he notices just how light the cook’s hair is in the sun, how red his blood is as it splatter here and there across his skin. The suit jacket is torn as the shoulder, the black fabric revealing the delicate white fabric covering the delicate pale skin underneath. It is an extraordinary sight. A sight shared by that unforgivable son of a bitch.

As if to confirm what is going on in Zoro’s mind, the man reaches into the cook’s golden strands and runs his hand through them. It comes away sticky with blood, of course, but the man just continues stroking.

“What… what the hell are you doing.”

The cooks asks with an uncertain voice. Zoro feels a stab of something. This is wrong. This is very very wrong, yet he cannot identify this feeling.

"Red suits you well."

The man throws the arm holding the knife above his head. The knife has become so rusty it does not gleam in the sun. And the man plunges down.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
> I'm putting this half-chapter here. I wrote this a long, long time ago, but didn't feel like finishing it. The other half is following shortly, I guess (I got nothing man). Sorry for this mother of a cliffhanger.
> 
> I'm afraid I might have made this into some cheap ZoSan porn. I sure hope not.


End file.
